i built gates for the dungeon




in my neighbor’s house, on odd afternoons last summer. Proteolipids slink thru membranes demarcating the sky and us, rain seems to be all that’s keeping civilization afloat, Moneyball lurks sweetly in the blue lit background, nostalgia bomb reverse-boofed out the chute. It gets more and more hard, considering you in my lap, legs bonking, fellow fawn milk fed thru and thru, adulthood gets memorialized via flesh, collagen droop staved off by hard spells, organs read by fingertip explain you knew that that character was gonna come back eventually, because you never saw them die

for naught but a fickle key. We took up weapons and thanks to 100+ hours of tactical role playing games, we’d learned how to bring death, that’s where this ends, you know that right? Leaves mark the spreading rings, rare hand dug gems embedded tweely in the warm red clay, a failure of bread’s announced with youthful vigor, tits swollen thanks to the forever chemicals in water

our bodies won’t weed out. Alex Trebek narrating a castle tour thanks to the boy who earth talk to, I am the dowry you've wanted to upend, dox the money lenders from the temple and replace them in time for our wedding, take off the purity rings, witness your face soaked in moiré patterns, a photograph of a tv oscillating itself out of relevance, remjet’s put on film to prevent halation, an artifact recouping the scuppernong's we grew day beyond day. There is a a star that appears every 70 years and I’m going to catch you, I tell it, I see you brandishing the downfall of my country, you're tacky and I love you. In the end

I walked through the tall graces, oops I mean grasses, into a tarn, the glaciers’ carved gargoyles, and washed myself free of original sin, as clean as promised, still wearing black for the anonymity even after the joke's over.


by Nolan Allan
@nolanallan
@bloodmerdiancellectuals